


Coffee On His Conscience

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 09:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Tasked with tailing the Crown Prince to keep him safe from harm, Nyx is meant to be a shadow. He’s meant to blend in and pretend that he’s just a part of the scenery. All the training in the world did not prepare him for when Noctis sat down across from him and offered to buy him coffee. [for the nyxnoctsecretsanta]





	Coffee On His Conscience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curiously_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiously_me/gifts).



> for the nyxnoctsecretsanta, I got to write for @just-sly on tumblr! I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful holiday!

This was not supposed to be happening.

Of all the dangers he’d expected to face, of all the variables he’d been warned to expect, of all the drill scenarios he’d undertaken to ensure that he was prepared for absolutely anything… _This_ had been the furthest thing from his mind. And it was the most treacherous threat that he was without any skillset to defend against. It descended on him like the quiet clutch of a birdbeast’s talons through the gut of a rodent at midnight. He never saw it coming, never heard a warning until it was upon him.

“Um… Hi.”

Nyx had frozen – the exact opposite of what he was meant to do to escape an attack. He’d been taken so off guard by the soft noise, so shocked to find the target of his mission standing so much nearer than the whole width of the café he’d made sure to keep between them at all times.

He immediately thought that he was compromised. He thought that the Prince must have recognized him from the background of a broadcast filmed beyond the Wall. He thought that his anonymity was forfeit, and that he was confronting him over why a Kingsglaive guard was being put on him after he’d finally earned his autonomy. Why was he still being tailed like when he was in high school when he had the right of his adulthood now? When he had his own apartment, his own life?

Nyx was not prepared to get in the middle of the Prince’s ire and the King’s orders.

He was less prepared for the Prince to sit down across from him and ask, “Can I buy your next coffee?”

…He didn’t get it. Coffee? Not a demand for his immediate removal and possible expulsion from active duty, effective immediately, for daring to abide by the orders of his father and thereby violating his right to his own privacy? No accusation? No tirade? No nothing? Just… coffee?

Nyx replied with a wary nod, watching Noctis very carefully for a sign as to his deceit. This wasn’t right. He had no reason to approach him. He must have figured it out. He must be baiting Nyx into admitting it himself, the little sneak. In spite of his unassuming appearance – the reticent way his shoulders slumped inward beneath his jacket, the shy shield of his hair over his eyes – Nyx, nor any of the Kingsglaive, were apt to forget that this was the _Crown Prince of Lucis._

He’d seen him fight. He’d smelled the electricity in the air when he warped, tasted the blast of steel when the phantom blades connected with Gladio’s greatsword, he’d seen his muscles stretch and curve and cut through battle simulations as fiercely as any daemon, reviewed recordings of his practice for the Glaive’s own reference and routines and felt his stomach bow in respect at how Noctis stepped out of empty air like an avenging shadow, could leap and flip and jump as light as a coeurl, yet pound massive swords into the earth like the weight of the Archaeon’s fist was behind each blade.

He was a formidable fighter, adaptable for any given situation. And he was cunning, constantly slipping security details with the abuse of his magic and driving half the Citadel crazy with all the pranks he pulled as a teenager. Warping in front of washerwomen and shouting like a ghost, slipping unsavory ingredients into displeasing soups so they’d have an excuse to have anything other than vegetable stew for dinner.

He could be tricky, but overall, his reputation amidst Insomnia was a kind one. An honest one. He wasn’t a trickster by nature. Nyx found himself faced with the genuine Noctis now. The quiet, awkward boy he’d seen grow up from afar in Nyx’s transient duties between the Citadel and the frontlines.

He _must_ have known who Nyx was. Although they’d never met formally, never exchanged so much as a “good afternoon” in passing between the halls of the palace, Nyx had seen enough of him to think that Noctis must have seen as much of him in return.

He quickly learned that was _not_ the case – and tried to keep his pride from being too wounded over it.

“Sorry,” Noctis said, drawing Nyx’s attention to the tiny table between them. “Is this… Did I misread this? Am I making you uncomfortable? I’m sorry, I just… you’ve been staring at me every day since I came in here for weeks now so, I thought…”

Nyx was even less proud of himself for how long it took him to realize what was happening. And this was when the terror sunk in, when he knew that there was no escape. Because his big, dumb mouth tried to save his cover in the worst way it knew how.

“Can’t help it. I like something sweet with my coffee.”

Oh, this was bad. He should not have said that, why did he say that, _why_. It was such a bad line, too. He could do better than that! But he _shouldn’t_ do better than that, not on this particular person. He should use no lines whatsoever, not even bad ones. Not even to protect his cover. Not on _this_ mission. Not on the fucking _Prince,_ his boss’s _son_ of all people. He could charm his way out of enemy imprisonment, wiggle his brows at the warden of a Nif fort, infiltrate an Empire base in disguise and seduce the keycard for a data bank out of some poor fool’s pocket, all of that was fine, that came with the job.

_Not this job._

They both stalled over that response, Nyx immediately berating himself for it. If it wasn’t bad enough to have used a line on his liege lord’s son when he should have been looking out for would-be assassins to protect him, it was too forward on general principle. Not the first thing he should say in a flirtation. That was a line he should have built up to, if it was on anyone else… He didn’t know why he was hung up on poor flirtation execution of all things when he just flirted with _his future king._

Noctis blinked in surprise, then pursed his lips to keep a grin from stealing across his face. “And here I was debating whether or not you might be a stalker or something. But you haven’t followed me down any dark alleys yet, right?”

Noctis laughed to try and break the awkward tension between them, but Nyx found his own laughter wanting to be less nervous than it was. No, he hadn’t stalked him down any dark alleys… Just warped above them. Where he couldn’t be seen. Following him home… There were some fine lines in guard duty, he was starting to realize.

Noctis’s smile faltered at the forced sound of Nyx’s laughter and he scrambled to recover. He didn’t want to scare the kid. That would be worse than getting fired.

“No, no, I’m not stalking you, I promise. And I’m sorry for staring” – He hadn’t been trying to. He would glance at him occasionally to make sure he was still there, but otherwise, his eyes were trained everywhere _but_ on Noctis. He wasn’t the threat he was trained to look for, after all. But those glances must have been enough – “I just, um, got used to seeing you around here, I guess.”

He isn’t sure what he’s trying to save himself from now: his duty or his pride.

“So, at the risk of sounding really cliché here,” Noctis chuckled, nodding out at the rest of the room. “You come here often?”

Nyx abided him with a smile. He’d only been coming to the café because it was _Noctis_ who came here often. Nyx figured that he must’ve discovered it shortly after moving into his new apartment. It was right within his orbit between his new home, the Citadel, and all of the other tucked away places throughout the city that he tended to frequent.

It wasn’t really to Nyx’s tastes, personally. A little too commercial, pretending at the small business feel. The chalkboard menus weren’t really written with chalk. They were glossy and manufactured and cycled on and off between seasons for pre-meditated specialties. There was a weird, acidic sort of smell amidst the undertow of roaring espresso machines. Too much cleaner on the tables and not enough cleaning. More of a “slap disinfectant on it and call it good” kind of smell.

The light fixtures were very modern, in that stark, Insomnian style of clean lines and crystalline luminance. The décor was sparse and coffee-colored – as if you didn’t know already what it was they sold there. Framed pictures of coffee grounds and posed, black-and-white café avenues meant to look like Altissia lined the rough brown walls. He _might_ have felt “transported”… if the coffee was any better.

“What are you having?” Noctis asked, nodding at the paper cup tottering beneath Nyx’s fingers.

He shouldn’t take him up on his offer. He should just thank him for his generosity, insist that he could pay for his own breakfast, and make polite excuses to get himself out of there. Just far enough to still keep the Prince within his designated radius, but at least out of his sight and away from his attentions. He was about to do just that. He planned out the kindest rejection he could think of to escape unscathed…

…But.

Noctis looked at him so eagerly, with such unabashed… _fondness._ There was an uncommon openness to his stare, his blue eyes brightening behind the shade of his hair.

He was so… proud of himself, Nyx realized. He had no idea how long Noctis had been entertaining the thought of coming over to meet him. Nyx had no idea he’d even drawn his attention in the first place! But he did know how nerve-wracking it was to be the one making the first move.

He sympathized with him. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the brightness in his eyes shut off. He didn’t want to discourage him from putting himself out there, didn’t want to be the jerk that dampened his confidence because who _wouldn’t_ fall for that sweet little smile?

_Be that jerk_ , his conscience was screaming at him. _Just let him down easy. You’ve done this before. It’s just going to bring you more trouble if you say yes. Just stop caring so much, and save yourself._

…

But he _did_ care, damnit.

Nyx tapped the rim of his cup. “Just a plain ol’ café mocha.”

The Prince’s smile staked straight into his chest. He waved down a waitress. And Nyx knew that he was dead.

\---

Guilt.

It was a terrible, thousand-armed arachne, cackling in his skull. It stretched out its long, hooked legs and sunk into his every pore like an endless rain of hospital needles trying to flush out the fever in his brain.

He felt hot with a shame that fluctuated between various judges. It passed beneath the discerning mental stares of the King and all of his retinue – the glacial cold of the Marshal’s scorn, the steel of the Shield’s retribution, his own King’s wrath and the concealed malevolence Nyx was _sure_ lay dormant, waiting to lash out and condemn him for his impudence. He was shamed by his Commander’s dead-eyed glare, looming over the back of his skull like a magistrate’s shadow. He could even hear the condoling whispers of his comrades, shaking their heads and lowering their eyes as he was marched up to the gallows to be smote by the doom of the Draconian Himself.

Not a single one of them compared to the remorse he felt for Noctis himself.

He was the sweetest of all of Nyx’s wardens. Which was why he was the one he was the most afraid of disappointing.

He was stringing him along and he felt disgusting for it. He was lying to him every day that he joined him at his tiny table in the corner. He was taking advantage of his own position to indulge in the prince’s company and he knew it, Nyx _knew_ he should just spurn his advances, it wasn’t that hard. Sure, the kid would be bummed for a while, sure, he might never come to the café again just to avoid him, sure, he might never hear him laugh again, but…

It was getting harder and harder not to make excuses. While he tried to convince himself that he was doing this for Noctis’s sake – his own mission’s sake – that it was all within his protocol for protecting him, Nyx knew that he was just being selfish.

Because, damnit, he was actually starting to _like_ Noct – it had become _Noct_ at some point. He dreaded thinking about how long he’d allowed this to go on for him to earn the nickname.

He’d only ever been a paycheck to Nyx for the longest time. Just another object of the royal family he was tasked with keeping safe. But once they talked, once he heard Noctis laugh – once he _made_ him laugh like it was the greatest accomplishment of his entire career – Noctis slowly became more and more real.

He wasn’t a morning person. That was the first thing he learned about Noct.

Sometimes Noctis came to the café in the mornings for breakfast. More often he came just before noon for what people on a normal sleep schedule called _lunch. Breakfast_ , he would always insist. No matter how far the sun was across the sky. And Nyx could tell when he’d just woken up. His eyes were never quite fully open until he exchanged bills for a latte and inched his way down to the halfway point of the cup enough to function.

He had a sweet tooth, was the next thing Nyx learned. He liked the seasonal drinks. White chocolate lattes or caramel crème brûlée in their black-and-white, holiday-themed cups to match Insomnia’s monochromatic chic. He didn’t like peppermint though, which was the store’s top seller. He said it tasted too much like medicine. Nyx was hard-pressed to figure out what kind of cough syrup he’d been taking to make that comparison.

This was all they did, really. Talked. For about a week since Noctis had first approached him, they just split the menial bill between them and talked about little nothings until each of their coffee cups were empty. Sometimes Nyx was sure that Noctis sipped his a little slower just to have an excuse for more time. Sometimes Nyx was certain he did exactly the same thing. Sometimes either of them would order a second cup, claiming themselves still not quite awake enough to make it through the day.

With every new thread that Nyx pulled to unravel the lush embroidery of Noct’s personality, he knew – in a gradually shrinking space at the furthest reaches of his mind – that those threads were tying him into knots. That he was spinning himself an even more dangerous web with every end of string he caught and pulled and wound around his own fingers.

But a larger part of him said that this was completely innocent. Because they just talked… maybe flirted a little here and there. It was a tightrope, to be sure, but as the days passed, Nyx didn’t think that he’d damned himself completely. Not yet, at least. Nothing had happened that he couldn’t walk back from.

It was better to keep the Prince close anyway, he insisted to himself. It was easier for him to do his job if the Prince was sitting next to him rather than across the room, he tried to justify in his head. There was no stipulation in the mission parameters that said he couldn’t make contact – it was merely _suggested_ that he remain incognito, and it was only for his own benefit (and _technically_ he was still undercover; Noctis had no idea who he was).

He was doing fine. This was fine. He had this under control. _It was fine._

Until it wasn’t.

Noctis had the kiss of death.

He shouldn’t have walked him out of the shop. He shouldn’t have walked with him a few feet down the sidewalk. He should have just waved him away at the door like he’d been getting into the habit of doing. He should have just walked away, as quickly as good manners would allow him to, and find a decent vantage point to tail Noct the rest of the way to his destination.

He shouldn’t have stood there when Noctis stopped to say goodbye. He should have known what he wanted to do when he stepped closer to Nyx than he ever had before.

He knew that he was going to kiss him. He shouldn’t have let him.

He quickly forgot what he shouldn’t be doing once Noct’s lips brushed delicately against his. It was just a quick, skittish little thing, just barely skating across the surface, restraining himself from taking more than Nyx was willing to give. He filled every one of Nyx’s senses – errant black hair in his eyes, soft skin on his skin, caramel coffee on his lips, his quick breath in his ears, and the smell of something sweet and wild from the soap he’d used that morning.

He consumed him completely for a mere moment, just a heartbeat of bravery. But that was all it took.

“See you tomorrow,” Noctis said in a rush, each word colliding into one mess before he was scurrying down the street and out of Nyx’s reach.

Nyx stared dumbly after him for a moment, catching Noct’s fleeting glances backwards and the small twist of a smile when he found Nyx looking after him.

Nyx recovered himself quick enough to find an alternate route to pursue the prince before he lost him. He remembered where he was, _who_ he was, who _Noct_ was, and worked very hard to keep the distracting sensation of Noct’s kiss from his thoughts until the day dwindled and Noctis was safely tucked away in his apartment and Nyx had calmly locked himself into his own hole-in-the-wall to scream profanities in the shower.

\---

After a while, Nyx somehow managed to convince himself that he _wasn’t_ leading him on. He’d have to want to stop seeing him at some point for that. But he didn’t. In fact, he looked forward to staking his claim to the little corner table every morning and watching the sidewalks through the windows for Noctis to walk into frame. More and more often, he’d been making it to the breakfast rush rather than the lunch.

Of course, he was still lying to him. Of course, he was far past the breaches of his job requirements by now – what, with all the kissing they kept doing at the end of every coffee. Of course, he was in the wrong, and he knew he deserved whatever punishment was intended for him, and he wouldn’t plead his case against it when the judgment inevitably came. He knew all of these things and he knew that he could prevent them completely if he just told the truth.

…But he really, _really_ liked kissing Noct.

They got a little bolder each day, testing the limits of romantic decorum until their curiosity was satisfied. They went from quick pecks, to a chaste press, to a slow caress of withdrawn want.

It was a slow draw of an arrow that didn’t fire into Nyx until many days later. Until the kisses evolved and went deeper. Until he could taste the sweetness of Noct’s favorite holiday latte on his own tongue. Until the little touches that came to keep his balance or angle his face or hold onto something to keep his knees from going weak, gripped onto Nyx’s arms more intently. Until his body shifted a little bit closer in the temporary privacy of the café’s shadow, and Nyx could feel the heat of his body through his thick winter clothes.

“So, um…” Noctis rasped after their longest, closest kiss yet, his body clutched against the line of buttons on Nyx’s coat, cheeks flushed and eyes like blue glass. “Do you live around here?”

Now, this? _This_ was the point of no return. This was his last chance to turn tail and run. Don’t show up for coffee the next day, just warp up to the rooftop and keep an eye on him from there. Don’t wave hello or kiss goodbye. Just cut himself off completely, get himself reassigned if he had to, be on his best behavior so he wasn’t kicked off from the frontlines and he could die out there with dignity rather than be tried and convicted for breaking his prince’s heart with his traitorous, completely inappropriate behavior.

To his credit… he at least _tried_ a little harder to divert it this time.

“Do you?”

Noctis bit his lip and avoided his stare, searching the furry ends of Nyx’s hood for an excuse. They were both lying, Nyx realized. (Selfishly, it made him feel a little bit better about the whole thing.) Noctis was coveting his anonymity as much as Nyx was. Nyx hadn’t once mentioned that he recognized him as the Prince of Lucis. There were plenty of people who didn’t. He knew that the Prince preferred his place to be out of the spotlight. Any time he made public appearances, it was for small functions, usually in the shadow of his father making whatever courteous address was expected of the royal family for said function.

Being invited up to a swanky, up-scale apartment was bound to be a hint. Or, at least, a fair bit intimidating. Likewise, the low-rent burrow Nyx was surviving in wasn’t exactly the most impressive place to woo a paramour, let alone the Prince of Lucis.

“I have a roommate,” Noctis said by way of excuse.

He glanced up at Nyx, hopefully. It was looks like these that had doomed Nyx from the very start. He just couldn’t say no to him… he didn’t _want_ to say no to him. He knew he should be stronger than this. He knew he should be able to separate his own desires from his commitment to the Crown and put the command of his King before anything else. He knew it all, he’d known it from the beginning, but…

“I, um… hope you’re not too skittish about the immigrant district.”

Noctis’s face split into that smile that made Nyx’s chest swell like a summer tide. He slid a finger along the braid in his hair, twisting the end around his fingertip.

“I think I can handle it.”

\---

Oh, Ifrit’s flaming balls, this was bad. This was really, _really_ bad. But it was so, _so_ good, too. Nyx’s conscience was not anywhere near his realm of capability for abiding its screaming.

He was too caught up in the sound of Noct’s breaths against his mouth and how hot they were against his cheeks as he pushed him against the door. He was too enraptured by the way his body curled beneath his hands, how Noct wrapped himself around him, and dragged his kisses in deep, as if they were the only thing keeping him standing.

Nyx was deaf to everything but the small, urgent noises, keening low in Noct’s throat between every shift of Nyx’s hands on him. He was consumed by the heat of him, rising with every slip of lips and slide of clothes.

Noctis was all-consuming. With four walls between them and the rest of the city at last, his tentative touches steadied with certainty, fisting Nyx out of his winter coat and knotting his fingers through his hair to capture him completely in his kisses. His body plastered against Nyx’s front, a smooth, sinuous drag of muscle rippling with every quiet gasp. He had his thigh between his legs, arms locked around his shoulders, begging with sweet, silken motion for Nyx to kiss him harder and touch him _everywhere._

Nyx couldn’t deny him a single thing. No matter the risk, no matter the guilt, he couldn’t stop himself from devouring those luscious little noises, from putting a hand to his jaw and craning his neck back and kissing deep, _deep_ down. He couldn’t resist the full-bodied shudder in Noct that shook Nyx to his very core, was too tempted to feel through his feathery black fronds of hair and find out what sound he would make if he pulled just a little.

They weren’t doing anything wrong, Nyx told himself as he lifted Noctis off the door and pushed him down to his bed. They were both consenting adults and they wanted this, he reminded himself as he felt along the supple plane of Noct’s skin beneath his shirt. They were _both_ lying to each other, but so what? he argued with himself. They weren’t lies that could hurt each other. They were just secret identities. They were just their way of being regular people for a few hours. They could just be themselves for a couple cups of coffee.

He could just be Nyx for this, coaxing his lover’s body around him the way he liked it, legs wound around the backs of his thighs, hips crushed up against his waist, nails racing up and down his back.

Noct could just be Noct, yearning for things he wanted that the Prince could never have – a commoner, an immigrant from the conquered islands, when there were a hundred nobles who would rather take the heir apparent for themselves.

They were just a couple of strangers in the city. Just a couple of coffee enthusiasts and some damn good kissers. They were allowed to kiss each other if they damn well pleased. Nyx could make him laugh with a horrible Tenebraesian accent, saying “caramel crème brûlée” like a gagging housecat if he wanted to. Noctis could slip his hand along his belt and tease the buckle between his fingers if he wanted to.

So, why was Nyx’s blood hammering at a fever pitch beneath his skin? Why could he feel the cords in his own neck from how hard they throbbed with the strain of something that shouldn’t be there? His palms were sweating, he wasn’t sure if Noctis noticed. His heart slammed into his chest so hard that he thought it could leave a bruise.

It took an eager roll of Noct’s hips for Nyx’s head to snap with the sudden realization that the adrenaline in his veins wasn’t lust, but pure, breakneck panic.

“I can’t do this!”

He ripped himself off of Noctis and felt something in him tear at the pleading, wounded look on his face when he did. Noctis blinked rapidly, disoriented by the sudden loss of sensation. He levered himself up on his elbows, chest heaving as he panted for breath, legs spread at the edge of the bed and pining after Nyx’s absence between them. He took a moment to shake the glaze from over his eyes and catch his breath before turning a concerned glance at Nyx.

“What’s wrong?”

The roughness of his voice yanked at Nyx’s brain. _Gods_ , he wanted to hear more of it. He wanted him to curse and moan and say his name over and over again. But he couldn’t do it like this. He’d told himself that his job didn’t matter if Noctis didn’t think his pedigree mattered enough to share, either. He’d haggled and bartered with himself like a Galahdian street vendor until he settled on a deal; that if Noctis was willing to lie, so was he; that people from different walks of life screwed all the time and there was no reason, _none at all_ , that they couldn’t do the same.

But there were plenty of reasons. They’d all been compounding in the back of his brain since the first cup of coffee Noctis bought for him. They weren’t regular people. No matter how badly they wanted to pretend they were.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Nyx said, feeling like he just ran a marathon with how hard his breath hit his chest.

“Why?” Noctis asked, sounding a little crazed and dazed himself. “I thought we were… Is it… Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Married?”

“No, no, none of that.”

Nyx raked in his breathing and held it for a long time, dragging both hands along his scalp to fist through the hair at the back of his head. He had no idea if the truth was even worse than what Noctis assumed. It sure as shit felt like it when he finally said it.

“Noct, I’m sorry, but… I’m with the Kingsglaive. I work for your father. I’m supposed to be protecting you, not…” He gestured lamely at the torrid state he’d left the Prince in on top of his sheets.

Noctis stared at him like he didn’t understand a single word he’d said. For a second, Nyx really hoped that he didn’t. He hoped that he would just shake his head with his sweet smile and quiet eyes and beckon him back to the bed.

But then his gaze came into focus. His eyes flickered around the barren apartment as if there were suddenly evidence everywhere. The headlines clipped together on his desk, the picture of Galahd above his bed, the Lucian-made military boots thrown in the corner; it was like a fucking crime scene.

Nyx felt his chest open up into a bottomless pit as Noctis finally averted his eyes, dark with resignation. He swallowed around a tight knot in his throat and hurried to his feet before Nyx could throw himself to his knees and beg for his forgiveness.

Nyx was expecting a slam of his door. It was the least he deserved. He didn’t think anything could possibly hurt worse than how quietly it clicked shut. He’d reminded Noctis of who he was. And it wasn’t proper etiquette for a prince to slam a door.

\---

Guilt.

And a little something more than that. Something much, _much_ worse.

He couldn’t put a name to it at first. It was just this sour feeling in his stomach that made the coffee sit like lighter fluid in his guts, ready to ignite on some chemical reaction with this horrible feeling of regret.

Noctis stopped coming to the coffee shop.

Nyx wasn’t even remotely surprised. But he was heartbroken.

He’d assumed his usual position across the street from Noct’s apartment complex, waiting for him to exit the slick glass doors to go about his day, but he rarely did. Either he was slipping out from under Nyx like all the guards before him now that he knew he was there, or he just wasn’t leaving his apartment altogether. Probably the former. As sweet and soft and warm as he had been in his arms, Nyx was loathe to forget that there was a reason they’d picked him to tackle the issue of Noct’s security.

He was a sneaky little shit. Like minds.

When he couldn’t catch Noctis exiting the apartment complex, Nyx would go on ahead to check the regular places he knew he liked. He was dying to know how he knew where Nyx was going, just so he could avoid it. Noctis was never at any of the places Nyx tried. Especially not sitting down for a white chocolate latte at the corner café.

There was one day where Nyx nearly barged into the apartment building because he wondered if the Prince hadn’t been assassinated while they were playing this avoidance game like a couple of high schoolers. He was assured that all was well when there were no sirens on the streets or broadcasts flashing across the giant screens or friends looking haggard and worried in the places Noct was used to visiting them.

Nyx would see Ignis going back and forth from the apartment, implacable as ever with a phone to his ear and a tablet screen glinting off his glasses. Prompto would be bumping his heel to his headphones at the arcade games, whistling happily to himself and not at all like his best friend had been murdered while Nyx wasn’t on watch. He saw Gladio around the Citadel, perfectly content with getting his ass kicked by some senior Crownsguard and barking out laughter through the sweat.

It wasn’t Noctis that was dead. Nyx was just dead to Noctis.

He wondered if his mocha tasted like salt because he’d been too distracted by his thoughts to grab the sugar, or if it was just the way it was always going to taste from now on.

He would report a mission failure to Drautos later that day. He hadn’t been ostracized from the Glaive yet so, Noctis must not have filed a complaint or anything. At least Nyx could get out with his dignity before it was smashed beneath the heel of disciplinary action.

He didn’t really care about his dignity as a Glaive though. He cared about his honor as a person and how he’d failed to uphold it with Noctis. He cared more about the cold, sterile look on Noct’s face when he realized Nyx was telling the truth, just before he walked out. He cared that he’d hurt him so bad that he felt like he had to avoid all of his favorite places just so he wouldn’t have to see him again.

He cared more about missing the light, liquid roll of his laughter across the sticky, acid-smelling table with its plastic salt and paper shakers and tiny trough of sugar and sweeteners – two sugars, Noctis always used two sugars. He missed testing out one new thing from the menu every day and watching Noct’s expression for the wrinkle of his nose if he discovered spinach in his sandwich. He missed waving hello to him and kissing him goodbye.

He missed him so much that he nearly missed him when he walked in the door.

“Don’t say anything,” Noctis commanded when Nyx opened his mouth. He wasn’t even sure what he planned on saying, just hoped that something would come to him that sounded out the way he felt. “Yes, I’m mad that you lied to me,” Noctis went on, slamming down into the seat across from him. “Yeah, I’m mad that Dad still doesn’t trust me enough to let me live on my own. Whatever. I’m madder about the fact that I don’t really give a shit about any of it.”

Noctis waved down a barista and forced enough calm into his voice to make an order – one café mocha, one caramel latte. He waited until the teenager was gone before resuming his glare.

“Coming for coffee here was the highlight of my day because I got to see you. And I really liked kissing you. I’m mad that you’re a glaive and I’m mad that for some reason that has to change something between us. I liked you. I still like you. Did you like me, too? Or are you just paid to?”

“I’m not a hooker, Noct,” Nyx laughed, despite his best efforts not to. “Yeah, I liked you. I _like_ you. A lot. Enough to want to kiss you, right?”

Noctis scrutinized him for a moment, cheeks beginning to burn with the over-flowing cocktail of feelings that filled up Nyx’s own chest. The barista delivered their coffees with a perfect retail smile and pretended not to notice anything was wrong. Noctis snatched up his latte and pressed it to his face, knowing full well he couldn’t drink it without scalding off the roof of his mouth, but needing something to hide behind.

“Drink your fucking coffee and tell me about your day,” he mumbled, sinking into his chair.

He did. The coffee tasted like coffee.

His day was much the same but entirely new to Noctis. He told him the truth. He got up, went about his routine, checked in at the Citadel then, reported to his post.

Noctis told him a few truths, too. Like having a window just for warping out of sight. Like having his own places just for being by himself. Like knowing this wasn’t the only copy-and-paste café in the entire city.

It was only one coffee each. But when they left, out on the breezy sidewalk, in the shade of the café awning, Noctis grabbed his face in both of his hands and kissed him, full and deep and long.

“See you tomorrow, asshole.”

\---

He saw a lot of him tomorrow. So did his kitchen’s coffee maker.

\---

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked into his hair, a few days later.

Noctis huffed out a sigh into his pillows, shimmying down into the circle of Nyx’s arm around his waist. The movement made his hair tickle the tip of Nyx’s nose. He smiled and nuzzled deeper into the messy nest of raven tufts, breathing in that distinctly fresh scent. Like wild berries at summertime.

“I have a feeling I’m always going to be mad at you about something,” Noctis grumbled, worming his fingers through Nyx’s as he was squeezed back tight against his chest. “I hear you’re a troublemaker. Cor hates you.”

“Cor loves me, he’s full of shit.”

Noctis snorted. His fingers idled absent patterns on the back of Nyx’s hand while Nyx mouthed slow kisses throughout his hair. He liked his hair. He liked his neck and his shoulders and his legs tangled with his beneath the sheets. He liked the feel of his skin beneath his hands, how he could raise goosebumps along his arms if he just barely grazed his fingertips across them. He liked how he fit against his chest, tucked beneath his chin, and how his cute little butt would nudge back against him when he liked the way Nyx was touching him.

He could get used to this. Sure, he could still get in trouble for this. Somewhere, there was probably some policy he was breaking by sleeping with the Prince of Lucis. But Noctis seemed to like that he was trouble by the way he wriggled back closer and craned his head around to catch his wandering kisses through his hair with his lips.

“So, you’re not still mad at me right now?” Nyx asked.

“Not right now.”

“I’ll try to disappoint you again real soon.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, hero.”

“That an order, Your Highness?”

Noctis scoffed and tugged on his braids to kiss him, harsh and full. “ _Noct_ ,” he insisted. “But, yeah, it’s an order. Get to it, would you?”

“Sorry, but I’ll have you know I’ve a reputation for insubordination.”

“I would have never guessed.”

Noctis gave him a wicked smirk, rolling over to wind his arms around his neck and kiss him some more. That was another thing Nyx had learned about him from there coffee rendez-vous. Noctis liked kissing. Most mornings, all they would do was kiss. They traded them like seasonal coffees.

It wasn’t a caramel crème brulee latte or a hazelnut cappuccino, but Noctis liked his coffee far better than the little shop. He tipped Nyx much better for it.


End file.
